


Scratching the Surface

by CoralFlowerBad (CoralFlower)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Stuck inside a Black Hole, activate!, but only because i didnt need to say garuntee or however thats spelled, but yeah i used semicolons right and all that, good grammar, good spelling, seriously how do you fucking spell that, thief of light powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 14:09:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4062865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoralFlower/pseuds/CoralFlowerBad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>OH my goodness what a horrible pun.</p><p>---</p><p>You hadn’t really thought about meeting him in person, but he’s not what you expected. </p><p>What you expected: Some fat, lazy-ass idiot who kept a thesaurus and a dictionary next to him at all times while he manipulated defenseless trolls into killing their friends. </p><p>What you got: A well-dressed, well-mannered host with a strange aversion to showing skin and a cueball for a head. </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>  <span class="small">please read me</span></p><p>OH also this is set in a black hole.</p><p>Rated T for the words ass and fucking <strike>but no assfucking</strike><br/><strike>yeah the porn is in my other stories not this one</strike></p>
            </blockquote>





	Scratching the Surface

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AgentJX7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentJX7/gifts).



> hi mom

You hadn’t really thought about meeting him in person, but he’s not what you expected. 

What you expected: Some fat, lazy-ass idiot who kept a thesaurus and a dictionary next to him at all times while he manipulated defenseless trolls into killing their friends. 

What you got: A well-dressed, well-mannered host with a strange aversion to showing skin and a cueball for a head. 

And his voice is just strange. You’d imagined something grating, or maybe that he’d spit everywhere as he talked, but he hasn’t even got a mouth. His voice seems to come from around him; it’s just there. What he says isn’t comprised of words but disguised as just sound; it’s ambient, and listening to him is like looking at a magic eye diagram. You have to focus to keep hearing him, but if you think too hard about exactly what he’s saying it falls apart. 

He always knows when you can’t hear him anymore, and picks up right where he left off. It’s surprisingly similar to the way he types, in that you have to know his text is there to highlight and read it, and you can only hear him when you know he’s talking. Also it’s surprisingly easy to ignore him. You bet it happens to him a lot.

You _hope_ it happens to him a lot.

Anyway, it isn’t like he’s saying anything that matters, so you don’t know why you haven’t started ignoring him completely yet.

He’s bothering you. Ugh. He must know you aren’t listening, aren’t even trying, and won’t be trying ever again.

You feel kind of sorry for him, not because he knows you’ll never _really_ hear him again, but because he can see exactly how his entire existence will play out.

Them’s the 8r8ks.

You roll your eyes, trying to stop caring about him. He’s still talking for some reason, maybe there’s a black spot in his knowledge? You feel out for it mentally, there is one. And then you have an idea.

Shouldn’t a thief of light be able to create blackouts?

You hate yourself for wanting to do him a favor, but you really can’t help it, so you steal his knowledge of you, of everything you’ll do and think in the future, and then you start listening to him again because you want to know his reaction.

It’s not what you expected.

He’s silent for a long moment, just comprehending what you’ve done, and then he starts talking again. At first it’s just one word, ‘I’, but then it’s a torrent of hastily cobbled together prose, and you love how he can’t have any idea how you’re reacting to any of it, you are now completely unpredictable. You reach out and pap the smooth surface of his head.

“Shoosh.”

He stops. You grin, not meanly, not smugly, but encouragingly; you understand his dilemma. You understand losing your balance when everything changes around you. He _visibly_ gathers his thoughts, and then simply asks, 

“Why?” A thousand possible answers fly through your head. You shrug.

“That’s infuriating.” You huff, and roll your eyes, pretending to be a lot more annoyed than you actually are. The light in the room dim slightly, but that’s not you, that’s him, confusedly -- almost obsessively, even -- trying to figure out what it is he’s done to annoy you and forgetting to route enough power to the lights. You roll your eyes again, but playfully this time -- you can’t hold back a smile any longer, -- and pat him on the shoulder.

“Relax.” The lights go back on, almost painfully bright this time, and you find yourself squinting.

“I can’t. What are you planning?” You don’t reply, and he follows it up with “Are you even listening?” You smirk, and say,

“Nope.” He shrugs your hand off his shoulder, and carefully disappears into the other room, like he’s afraid you’ll take away the rest of his sight, like he can’t stand to spend another second in the same room as you. You frown.

You remember you’re stuck with him, and he’s stuck with you. Neither of you can get out.

And you’ve created a variable, something he can’t be sure of, that room was probably the only place he could actually see with the black hole blocking his way outside, and then the lights go out and the door slams shut. Well.

You fucked that up.

\---

It gets steadily colder before you hear the lock click and the door bumps against the wall with a loud slam. You feel air rush past you, and have enough time to infer you’re moving backwards before you slam against the wall. The lights flicker on.

He’s standing there, arms crossed, but his body language otherwise betrays nothing. The lights, however, falter uncertainly.

“Fix me.” He’s angry.

“You are fixed.”

The air buzzes with a rejection of your statement. “You’re mad at me. You want something for your own sake. And you’re attempting something without 8eing sure of the outcome. You _are_ fixed.”

Again the air says no. Again _he_ says no. You sigh. “I did this because I felt sorry for you.” He’s halfway through a ‘well you can take your pity and shove it up your ass’ when you continue with, “8ecause you could see your entire existence stretching out in front of you and there weren’t ever going to 8e any surprises. You knew exactly what was happening when, so nothing was ever enjoya8le.” 

A green spark leaks out of his head and fizzles out. “Give it back. Give it back. I don’t like this. I don’t want this.” You shake your head. 

And the lights flicker out.

You hear a sound like someone collapsing to the ground, and feel your way over to him. You hug him close, and he flinches.

“Let go of me.”

“Stop blocking me out.”

“I can’t.”

You relent, and show him your intentions, broadcasting what you plan to do in real time. He relaxes, _finally_ , and you brush a hand over his face -- even if it doesn’t look anything like yours, it’s still a face, -- and slowly lower the amount of information you’re feeding him. He notices, and buries his face in your shoulder with a sound that doesn’t correspond to any word.

“I would never hurt you.” He doesn’t respond. “I dou8t I even could.” He remains limp in your arms, and the sound is monotonous, robotic, he’s not bothering to alter his inflection in the slightest:

“You already have.”

**Author's Note:**

> so i gave this to agentjx7 because why not amirite  
> lol im so random XDXDXDXDDDDLKDSGHJSKLHAHAHA  
> *cringes*  
> *whispering* just ignore me...


End file.
